


When I needed to posses you

by Bana_Bhuidseach



Category: Gothic Romance - Fandom, Supergirl (TV 2015), Wuthering Heights - Emily Brontë
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Angst, Crimson Peak Inspired, F/F, Fiction, Ghosts, Goblins, Gothic, Gothic Au, Haunted Houses, Love/Hate, Paranormal, SuperCorp, Tragedy, Wuthering Heights References, gothic romance AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2020-04-08 12:19:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19106980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bana_Bhuidseach/pseuds/Bana_Bhuidseach
Summary: The heavy rain that fell over the moor reminded me of her hot temper, her love, and her smell; of dark autumn nights, moss and earth.Of the long days, we spent hidden between the tall grass, the sloppy rocks, and the trees. Sending wishes to the clear white moon.





	1. I've come home

**Author's Note:**

> The story shall have a strong resemblance to Wuthering Heights since it is the resource I will mostly use as inspiration, yet it will be its own dark gothic romance.

𝕾  
A knock echoed through the heavy paneled wooden door, the strength of the wind made the windows creak, the earth rumbled. Within the darkness of the old manor a weak fire fought against the over-layed dust, the stone walls from which the cold seeped through. One figure lays covered by a woolen blanket reading through an old leather book. 

The pounding on the door continues, desperate crying for help. However, the figure residing within is more keen to ignore such pleadings.

It could be someone unfortunate in need of shelter… There seems to be still a remaining rational and logic voice curling up from the subconscious. “Or it could be a ghost from the moor…” this time it is said out loud as if imposing a mere fact in which the other voice is diminished from authority. The second one, the loud one, is born out of the back of the throat. It is raspy from misuse. Accustomed only to a mumble. Its owner tastes the words that abandoned the mouth without permission and left a dry tingly feeling. 

“Hallo?” A soft whisper manages to cross the raging storm and the door. “Is anyone in there..? Oh please help me. Let me int…” The pounding continues. There is a slight thawing of heart and a great deal of temptation to open the doors. Poor soul suffering through, exposed, naked into the wrathful nature. “Let me in” there is a scrapping of the wood, like a hand losing strength and falling over it, caressing it as it may open in response to the gentle touch.

The book is set aside as well as the blanket, a scarce ember is fed with lumber and rekindled. The steps approaching the door are barely audible, an elongated discolored bronze key is slipped free from the velvet pocket and introduced into its lock. The hand holding it is about to turn it around when another, crooked falls over it. 

“It is late and the woods feel lonely” Just like that the windows rattle even harder, a branch constantly pounds now against the glass, the raindrops fall with rage and the door suffers more pounding than ever, something howls and screeches. Begs and recriminates the cold, the moors and the evil skies. Green eyes can be spotted through the heavy fog. The fire turns into moist ashes. A shadow engulfed the room, splotching as thick ink.

𝔖  
Before  
A piano melody sugar coats the salon. Bringing back to life the green vibrant colors of the walls, the blue of the drapery and the golden candelabra. 

Over the keys, pale fingers trickled managing to produce intricate fits of distinct passions. For some, it was fearsome, melancholic, mad, full of cruel demanding love. To me, the music resembled the moors. Their unbound nature. The sound traveled on enchanting the servants at the kitchen and the rest of us. But she wouldn’t stop playing. Those dark green eyes fixated upon the old piano, fixated on her traveling hands, calloused and strong from days of practice. From days of playing outside, riding horses, climbing trees and collecting rocks and herbs by the stream. She was wild and belonged out there, she was just as angry, just as mad, just as lovely and as the nature surrounding us imposed she did as well through her music, creating an uncanny silence.

Only I dared to approach her and caress the delicate strands of obsidian hair, it looked and felt like satin threaded with dark stars, and cascaded over her like a waterfall touched by midnight. She turns and places her chine atop of my hand that is resting over her shoulder, her hands don’t separate from the ivory keys. 

“Shouldn’t you be working with the horses?” her voice is soft and profound, lush. 

“I decided to allow myself some resting time…” 

There are lilies on top of the piano, slowly decaying, their pollen scatters over the surface because she has been playing for a long time some of it has smudged her fingernails. I particularly enjoy observing such diminutive details that transform and adorn her. For no matter what shade or color or light touches her. She remains exquisite.

She stops playing and takes one of my hands in her. “They are cold” 

“I had to wash them, they were caked in the dirt” She inspects my calloused hands meticulously and takes them close to her mouth, blowing warmth into them.“Shall we have something to eat? Now that you are done, or would you prefer to go outside, I recently found a golden plover nest” 

“Perhaps at another time” She stands up and looks right at my face, rosy warmth collects at her cheeks. Her hands abandoned mine, the slight warmth fades away and my fingers ache to reach out and claim it back. But I restrain myself. 

“Miss…” A frail voice and a cough emerge from one of the doors. And just like that my hope for enclosing in into her fade away, as she bows to me and walks out. 

Anger burns within me, full of impatience, I’ve barely been able to talk to her recently. “Lena?” She turns slowly, the fabric of her dress rustling and sending a goosebump over me. Her neck turns just slightly it is so pale and delicate, her eyes stare in question. My tongue stumbles over the words. “When can I see you?- then mumble- alone” Her gaze trails downwards to her hands, her thumb playfully caresses a ring, one her mother gave her long ago, it is made of silver and it can be opened by turning it to the right, I’ve never asked what she keeps inside. She fidgets and breathes hard. Look at me, I know you are about to lie, look at me. 

A bell rings “I have to go…” 

Just like that leaving me without an answer she floats away from me when she used to fly right beside me.


	2. Fly beside me

_**Even Before That** _

…Fractured moonlight  
So mellow and sweet seeps through the window glass. Each stroke flickering by the whims of the clouds and the ill-tempered tree branches that tap and tap again the window glass.

It caresses locks of hair spread over lilac sheets, a cheek or a brow relaxed with sleep. Noses that almost brush against each other and limbs that speak of a placid kind of exhaustion.

High wind blustered around the house yet both figures lay still, safe in their hidden cocoon. A safe sliver of time and space in which they can mingle. Just like the moon and the sun during an eclipse. By nature forced to remain apart until they get permitted stolen moments.

One of them stirs and opens her eyes, barely, heavy lids with sleepiness, dreamy fluttering dark lashes. Slowly taking a deep breathe taking in the smell of orange blossoms, grass and a faint smell ever so present of the farm beasts. All scents mix up with the one that only belongs to Kara, one that can be specifically found at the nape of her neck. Only reachable when they both go riding on the same horse through the woods, or when they fall asleep together and she turns around, only then would Lena venture out to breathe in, in a very delicate instant. Kara now is curled up in her bed even when she isn’t allowed. She is supposed to sleep in her own bedroom or as she mostly prefers, the stables. Why does she prefer hay over a comfortable bed is a constant argument between them.

“I just find it warmer and friendlier than that cruel place…”

Lena always represses calling out to her but I reside within such a “cruel” house. Believing it to be childish… conscious enough that she is not referring to her.

The servants look down on Kara, the mother even if never cruel is always absent and her brother dwells like a shadow around the corridors, when not being completely irrational and mean, believing he is the only true master, everyone go his wishes a command to be followed accordingly. The people at the house mainly listen to him, more in mother’s absence. They try to lock them both up within their rooms, yet they never count on them slipping away; the cook always letting them go from the back. Even with such goblins as the keeper of the gates and the nurse, always trying to keep track and separate Lena and Kara, trying to cage one like a pretty bird and diminish the other one on Lex’s orders.

Despite having to hide and leave. Lena does not hate the manor, it is a strong building that has just become part of the tumultuous weather. It is grotesque and wild, like the moors. Within it is just as imposing, a big old hearth made of stone, carved with nymphs and other vicious-looking creatures, an ominous L at the top; the fire always rages within it, sending warmth through the hall and other places, surrounded by dark bookcases and some old functional furniture. Each item of the house is old and menacing. She likes that about it when they were little she used to make stories about how the manor had belonged to the Goblin King, where he would lure the maidens and keep them in the in-between both worlds. Until one brave enough made him fall hopelessly in love and so he finally gave in and let her go back, keeping the house.

Such fancies would only be shared with Kara outside in the garden or while she was supposed to play the piano. An eerie tune the perfect accompaniment. Both will create worlds within the walls. Kara though preferred ghost stories.

Then they will go out into the moors. Wild and unafraid of the ghouls and faeries. They go out running, dancing and playing, then, later on, to explore and lay under the soft breeze, taking in a fragment of sunlight. Communing with the few animals that would venture to get closer. Collecting flowers for Lillian or the cook.

Today they went farther out than usual.

The sun had fallen from the sky earlier than predicted. Announcing an early cold season. Soon after that a chilling to the bone wind accompanied the darkness.

The two heathens caught themselves deep into the forest and instantly redirected their wandering feet back. The sound of their thumping heart and hard breathing and a small laugh here and there marked their return alongside with the sounds of nocturnal animals waking up.

The house sees as two figures run out on the field, dreading to look ahead and find someone expecting. The monstrous house is the only one waiting, the curtains drawn shut just probably a few candles left lit.  
Lena’s skirt had felt heavy since it was drenched and muddied. It tried to root her back to earth and turn her either into another unearthly tree or another unfamiliar rock. She stops to take a couple of breaths, she feels so cold, her hands stiff, her breath foggy. A warm hand takes hers. “Come on Lena…” Kara pulls her and they keep running.

They reach the front door yet it is locked, they tried to leave them out, probably Lex’s idea of teaching them a lesson. So they run at the back. Lena rests her brow upon the old wood, which groans from the years and humidity. She closes her eyes for a second. Her soul full of the cold, the roaring wind and foreboding clouds. Full earth scent and trees. Savoring the sweetness of the berries they collected.  
They hide and walk slowly through the halls, using a secret passageway or two. Almost all the inhabitants seem to be asleep or in payer. Finally, they shed their clothes, bathe and wear more comfortable ones.

——  
There are footsteps along the corridors. Lillian is up and wandering around unable to sleep. Some ghost always hunting her.  
Kara flutters her eyes open and sees her treachery companion looking at her not completely asleep nor awake. She smiles a little. “Go to sleep, sweet Lena…” Her thumb caresses slowly over her cheek, the well-known shape of her hand, with all its soft and hard spots from callouses evokes peace. “Dream of great things, a dream of this house, a dream of what lies beyond the moors…” And dream about me. Always an unspoken but well-known sentence, by both of them.  
So the dreams overtake. Growing like vines within her mind, sometimes resulting in deliciously scented roses at other times into sweet belladonna.


	3. Bad dreams in the night

My head was aflame with pain. I hear a cry that tells an intricate loss… In this dream.

“Lena!” 

My body propels forward, I wake up with ragged breath and a foggy mind.  
~ ~ ~   
There was fog forming around my skirts, all around condensing into darkness, I was out into the woods. So much I could tell from the spectral shadows of trees. Then I couldn’t see anything except the unnatural mist that started to glow and seemed to start taking shape, everywhere else it was pitch black. A deep void. Where was I before this? I remember being conscious… had I walked out into the night?. There were no stars nor moon. She remembered there had been a full moon up in the sky. She also remembered someone had been next to her. Or had that been before? 

A detached voice came from somewhere far away. 

“Mss would you like some porridge?” I got every word yet it was so out of place, they lost meaning. The quality of them degrading into distortion nonsense. “Miss Luthor?” 

A rustle of leaves, an unknown humming overwhelming my ears. The noise crept from the corners approached and retreated, taunting. 

“Miss?…” Echo “mistress” I knew I should be responding yet all that concern kept itself buried. 

My conscience is more concerned by the incrementing pungent smell of rot. Some flashes of light like lightning. The feeling of coldness invading from the tip of my fingertips. Frost forming around them. The mist covering all the way to my stomach, leaving a slimy feeling behind. Where was I? Where am I ?! 

A far outcry “LENA!!” 

“Lena” A butterfly touch over my shoulder breaking out the spell. The same voice from the horrid hallucination overlapping with this one. Both versions of Kara’s voice melting together. The calm one with a hint of concern and the shrill of pain and horror, that pierced to my very soul. 

Slowly my eyes readjust focusing. Kara’s hand is over my shoulder, light as a feather yet comforting, she looks at me like I am a spooked mare about to trample her and run away. The cook is looking expectingly, the hard grip on the mug she is holding me the only sign of her distraught. 

“Sorry, just had a flight of fancy” I try to come up with a smile trying to pretend to be completely fine, “just a silly daydream” I look down at the table to reassure myself I have indeed stopped dreaming or remembering. My mouth is sour. My temple is pulsing hard, carrying a lot of blood. The smell of death and decay doesn’t leave my nostrils for the rest of the morning.   
We listen to Lex’s descending steps from his studio. Those heavy steps being our cue to leave. We ran off, the gatekeeper still eating breakfast yelling after us unintelligible things with a heavy accent and many lost teeth.   
We ran until our sides hurt. Then rested over dry tall grass, hidden away. 

“You have circles under your eyes... When I left you-you seemed to have a very placid sleep.” Her fingertips play over my cheeks, tapping them softly. I give away smile. 

“Had a bad dream, unfortunately,” I sit up realizing I do not want to talk about it. “Would you care for a race to the stables?” 

She rests her head over her arms “Well I always end up winning so what is the point” she has this entitled tone that bothers me, so I stand up and run without giving her any kind of forewarning. 

The day is a rare calm shade of pale yellow and pink tones here and there, almost orange at some faraway spots, the start of a waxing moon can be seen so clearly. The rays of sunshine feel like soft butter, thawing tiny patches of skin, that latter on the strong wind would once more turn back to stone. 

Yet it is warmer than most days and so Kara decides to brush the horses outside. I watch her work covered by the harsh gusts. She makes a ritual out of it, from gathering the brushes to taking off her coat. Her flimsy shirt barely covers her. It is worn thin, and her skin can be seen through, the muscles result from hard work. 

I make a mental note to get her a new shirt. She works arduously and at some point, I go get her some lunch. Sneaking through the kitchen, listening to my brother play the violin frenetically. The cook meanwhile if preparing some poultice for my mother, since she is suffering a headache. A terrible one apparently. She is all drawn shut into her room. What a waste of a lovely day… 

I as if I can go see her but every servant having lunch at the kitchen tells me it wouldn’t be recommendable. That my brother has forbidden entrance to her room. This makes me angry. He cannot recluse her from us, selfish brat. 

“Go on Miss, take the basket with you… have fun outside.” I get carried to the door with a basket on my hands filled with strawberries, bread, honey, and some goat cheese. And some milk. While being ushered to the door I get to hear someone mumbling I should be confined reading the bible. I let out a loud chuckle. He calls me creature from hell and everyone should take care of me. 

“I am an evil witch of the moor after all…now do not make me lose my temper or you will have reason to fear me” I turn and give him a tiny smile. Most of the times I pretend not be listening to them, and they believe to be safe, even if they think I did hear them, that they are under the protection of my brother. They think I have no power, and sometimes I do feel that way. Trapped in my life. No way out of here. Trapped into a crypt, and I wonder if that is what happened to mom if she withered away. 

When I finally reach the stables again Kara is baking under the slim sun rays. 

“I brought food”   
She instantly sits up, leaving all type of lazy demeanor and smiles at me. It feels warmer than sunshine. We eat slowly savoring the bread and the contradiction of the acid berry with the sweet mellowness of honey. I let the cheese melt within my mouth, soft and rustic. 

The day guides us through morosely. We find the nest of a bunny and see the tiny figures curling up together against one another, the mother probably out searching some food. We let it be and keep going. 

Some clouds gather up in the sky forming blurred figures. 

“Lena close your eyes”

“And why would I do that?” 

“So that the air tells you its secrets…” 

“What would it tell me?” 

“Anything you ask for” 

I remember my dream then. “I am tired of predictions” or maybe the wind would tell me if it was just flight of my imagination or if something darker is haunting me. 

“Come on, close your eyes. I promise it would only tell good things” 

Not very trustful then… Yet I do not say it out loud. I close my eyes slowly, shutting out the world but by its smell and sound. What awaits me? I ask softly in mind, almost timid. 

The wind goes high up, it roars, goes up in staccato and screeches against the land, I open my eyes and run into the woods. 

“Lena wait!”

I mingle between the shadows, scared, anxious. I do not want to be in here, yet it is my safe place. My breath comes ragged. And so I hide and try to think of the good things the moor brings me. Freedom, life, strength, Kara.   
The bad things… uncertainty.   
“Lena.. ?” 

I jump over her and we roll over the earth, leaves, and weeds. 

“Got you…” 

She looks me in the eye perplexed. “Do not leave me behind like that…” 

I try to laugh yet it hasn’t formed my lips when she whispers. “Do not leave me ever..” The laugh chokes into my throat, leaving it swollen and aching, I want to promise to her that I won’t, yet it doesn’t come out, like deep in my gut there are some dread and warning. Like the wind is telling me I would be lying if I did promise such. 

Instead, we keep looking at one another for a long time. Until I roll away. A bird flies past. 

“Let’s gather some herbs” 

“What for? You have aplenty” 

“I just need some more mugwort, I am running out.” 

She nods, gets up and helps me get up. We wander even further not really wanting to care about getting lost. Until our legs are extremely tired and we are hungry again so we find a soft space within the grove. We lie there looking up at the sky, and apparently getting home after dark now will become a habit. Because we stay there until the stars appear and we look at them and the shining moon. 

“I am cold.” Kara curls up next to me. 

“Me too…” 

“Make a wish” 

“That I stop being cold.” 

“I am being serious.” 

“Fine… that we never have to go back” 

“I want to go back.” 

“Why? “ 

“ I do not know… I just know I love that house” 

“ We could be free Lee…” 

That makes my eyes fill with warm hopeful tears. But how? Where could we go? And where could we live? The house and my mother were everything I had and cherished asides from her. But whom did I loved more?  
Still, what would be our place in the world. 

My stream of consciousness fades away taken away from me by a desperate almost ear piercing scream.


	4. The Strange Imposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena and Kara roam the dark, menacing woods trying to follow the source of the scream...

Pain and despair hung in the air…   
Tremulous light seeped through the heavy foliage of trees, trying to reach out to the floor sadly unsuccessful. When the darkness covers every crevice of the forest it all becomes a tinge more sinister, as if every plant and tree and rock rose from their daylight stupor and rearranged themselves changing known shortcuts and secret hideouts, into long paths and dangerous traps. 

The woods feel electrified by the scream. Which still lingering in its audience’s ears. 

Every crack echoes deep into Lena’s body. Every lower branch seems to reach out like elongated frozen limbs trying to get a good hold of the clothing and trap the two wandering warm bodies. A second scream resounds through, closer, closer, closer.   
What can the source of the shrill be?   
A banshee for all that Lena is concerned, one creature sent out by the old gods. Kara looks back at her concerned and offers a hand… This simple gesture rekindles the curiosity and fools bravery of the two, recognizing strength on the other. Another scream that reminiscences more of a wail of pain.   
It is dark and hard to see and so they end up having to call out. Both of them at the same time, with a whisper that turns into a shout. 

“Do you need any help?” Their voices tremble, even though later on Kara will claim it was out of cold more so than fear.

“Hallo…?” a weak voice, that provokes sighs of relieving from the blonde one, yet in the brunette’s mind, it could as well be a trap to lure them in. “Is anyone there? Oh please, I am hurt… over here… over the blackthorn tree..” 

Kara slowly regains confidence, “ could you please continue making noise? so we can find and assist you?” 

“The blackthorn tree!- the voice sounds almost indignant-, I know it is dark and all covered in mist but you surely should know how one of those …” the voice trails off when she faces the two figures. Lena is trying to hold back a burst of laughter mixed the nervousness and the astonishing fact that the woman laying on the floor possibly badly injured still had the energy to be brazen. “..look like” she finishes. Kara seems more concerned than amused. A bit taken aback by the gods know what, so Lena decides to let go of her hand and try to help the stranger. The sudden absence pains Kara so. Seeing her slowly approach the other. 

“How did you get injured?- she starts trying to dissuade the shape over the floor engulfed in fabric- can you get up?” Offering her pale hand the stranger takes it and tries to get a grip, she tries to stand. Kara out of her reverie tries to support her as well and help. The woman’s breath is ragged, her whole body trembles. She manages to stand heavily leaning into Lena. “Thank you… that hurt a lot and still does…” she tries to take deep breaths. 

“Do not worry my dear, -Lena says- can you move?” The woman nods. She seems to be covered in mud and even leaves. Her support reaches out and takes one out of her hair and tries to rearrange one of the many loosened locks of hair behind her ear.

“Would you care to explain how in the devil you ended up here?” Kara finally snaps. Not at all comfortable. 

The woman takes a tight grip of Kara’s hand; trying to balance between the two, she looks at her with soft dark eyes that hardly been discerned in the darkness. 

“Well, I got a bit lost… I do not live around here you see…” she stutters a bit. “But now I came to live with my aunt and cousin and well…- she looks down nervously- I threw a bit of a fret. I fought with both of them and tried to get some fresh air to calm myself- she said this avoiding the actual fact she had run out of the manor, claiming she shall go away never to return and that she cursed the inhabitants-…that is when it got darker and darker, then something, do not know what still gave me a good fright and well started running in hopes of what could be the right direction… the last thing I know I ended up tripping and hurting my shin and knee, I felt the skin rip and bleed, -a this, both saviors tried to look down forgetting the absence of light- my ankle hurts too.” Accompanying these last words there was a serious gesture of discomfort. 

“You live at Agnes Hall, then?” Kara interposed.

“Well that is quite far, I do not think we might be able to reach it her in such a state… we might as well bring her home with us” With a hurried tone Lena decided over the other two parties. 

Just then the stranger tried to object at the same time as Kara. “Oh no that would be highly inappropriate” interloped with an “I could bring a horse to carry her and we will be there in no time” One delicate dark eyebrow on Lena’s face started to raise… 

“Then how should we proceed? You need to clean yourself and much needed rest” She looks straight into the woman eyes, Kara fidgets behind considering getting the horse and be done with it, she worries about the woman, but also about L, she needs rest and warmth as well, and they rather had an unfinished conversation. Her thoughts trailed off into the what-ifs, what if they ran?. The dark world seemed more inviting then than scary… if they took the same horse she was intending to get or maybe even risk it and take two and leave with their few possessions, never to return.   
She was aware that right now was not the time, to ponder over such things, yet recently it happened more often than not and so one part of her mind could not help itself. Picturing an idyllic life of hard work but no reproach nor mistreatment. Of not looking at Lena kill herself every day she could not escape her family to try and please them. To feel her anger, disappointment, and need for approval every time Lex was near.   
“Kara…?”

‘Huh?” 

“Would you care to come back to earth darling?” 

“Sorry… I was just… putting some thought onto what we were gonna say when we get back” 

“Well, we shall not worry since darling Samantha is coming with us. I managed to coax her while you were so immersed” A small smile marked Lena’s lips of pride, but her eyes were worried at the same time. Inquiring. What is running through your mind? 

“You convinced her?” She tries to sound cheerful and Lena pretends to believe it. Meanwhile, Samantha seems to be looking at her dress which even in the dark looks completely ruined. Why would she consider wise running wearing such a heavy thing?. Even Lena’s dresses sometimes seemed like a burden, but she liked them, they mostly were woolen made and very practical for the cold, she said she loved the earth tones of them and that she liked their wight, most of the times. This one though looked made of satin or silk a nightmarish contraption to be sure outside in the wet, messy, savage moors.   
“But, I would think we might need the horse after all, would you mind to fetch it, please? I shall stay with her…” She never told her to fetch things, it was a rather rare selection of a word, it felt corrosive in Lena’s voice. “I would love to go with you but we cannot permit ourselves to leave her alone in here, we might try to get as best we can to the edge of the forest so you do not have to come all the way in again”   
Kara takes one of the delicate white hands,” It is alright, I will try to come as fast as the night permits me” Lena gave her a soft smile, one only reserved to her and everything felt quite alright and set in the world again.   
Samantha all the while they walk, slowly to not strain her ankle any further, tries to maintain a conversation, according to her to not seem dull. But she is clearly tired and she should not make any more efforts and so just for a little wicked fun. Lena tells her favorite story about the Goblin King and the Goblin market. Just with a light touch of entanglement and change, as she prefers. The brave abducted woman that fights tooth and claw through underground tunnels, tricks and illusions, lustful creatures and makes the King fall in love and grants her freedom and a manor of her own where she can live with her family, play music and eat real richness of fruits, meats, and cereals.   
By the time Lena sees Kara returning they have approximated the edge of the forest, very slowly but decidedly. Samantha has started to hum a song she believes fits the story. And they both greet their hero with a frozen kiss on the cheek.   
Kara orders Lena to ride with their newest, forced acquaintance. Everyone is tired but they shall be in the kitchen of the manor soon enough, hopefully with a kettle by the fire.   
Lena tries to not fall asleep on the ride back home, but her skull feels like made of stinging hot iron, her temples pulsing hard. She will certainly wake up with a fever. So she lies her head over Samantha’s shoulder, she smells of sweat, dampness from the soil where she was just resting and a tinge of jasmine…


	5. But we are made of feathers

The coughing resounded through the dark cold halls. Servants worried all over trying to make it as comfortable for the Mss, trying to reassure her mother everything will turn out just fine. They had called in a doctor as soon as they could. 

He had bled Lena and have her some powders to balance her spirits, he had also tended to the visitor, Miss Samantha Arias, the maid had already cleansed and bandaged her wounds, the gatekeeper had managed to reposition the ankle and bandaged it, yet the doctor insisted, he did not do much, checked the girl for a concussion, for other injuries or for the possession of an infernal cold, nothing. 

He did not check on Kara, on Lex’s orders. This did not mind her at all. She hated the man, well the men, they were rude and condescending, they believed to possess power over them, over even Lillian, whom all shall owe respect… It revolved around Kara’s stomach, she secretly desired deep inside sometimes for revenge, but she would not have such feelings overpower her tender heart. No…

“Darling, let me check your temperature alright?, you look pale and agitated” The kitchen matron approached her, slowly like she was a doe ready to sprint or a stag ready to attack. She stood still for a moment while the kind woman touched her forehead, her pupils and her ears finding nothing to worry about, she was sent off with a just out of the oven pastry. 

“Thanks, Hilde…” Kara bows out and goes around the house to the back garden. She can see Lena’s window from there, she had wanted to stay with her since dawn, which was more so the time they had arrived back to the manor. Last night temporality had been something certainly trifled by the goblins of the forest, as probably Lena would say. It seemed like an eternity, yet at the same time like no time had passed at all. And yet they had arrived just before the sun started to come out from up behind the hills. 

Kara knew how to climb, she could probably manage, though now the theory seemed so far fetched from reality, that wall looked week and old, the vines could pretty much betray her and let her fall. She would by the end try anyways. 

The vines turn out to have small vicious spikes, they snapped and prickled, the skin ended up feeling tender. Breath ragged by the cold, ominous clouds announce a storm to come, they gathering over the moors trapping them out of time and out of place. Kara looks through the dusty and humid mottled window-glass, Lena’s room is dim-lit with a candle and the sparse sunlight, the clear gauze drapes fall protectively around the sleeping form. The bureaus on each side of the bed are cluttered with romance novels and poetry, as well as Lena’s desk which Kara would have to cross over if she climbs up from the window. Her fingers tap softly, instantly she sees the figure started moving, Lena’s face comes uncovered from her long locks of hair, nightgown fabric, and her pillows, she looks directly at the window, with her sharp beautiful eyes, and gives a cunning smile. She stands up very slowly, ignoring the slippers and walking barefoot towards the window. 

She looks down at Kara struggling and gives her another more playful smile. She leans in over the desk to reach for the window latch.   
“Let me in your window, L. ” 

A ragged breath. A sigh.   
“What are the magic words?” sometimes she loved to pretend to be malicious but certainly right now was not the time. 

“It is me your Kara, Lena, let me in” 

Slowly the window opens and Kara needs to avoid crashing against the sill, Lena moves back, permitting the other to jump in gracefully, a slight thud reverberates the wooden floor. A voice comes from the other side of the room’s door.

“Everything alright miss?” They placed a maid on the entrance to check on Lena. 

“Yes, Rose, thanks, just a book that slipped off my hands” 

“Must have been a hefty one mistress” 

Lena represses a laugh over Kara’s offended face. Only then does she take a better look to discover that she looks pale, paler than usual, for the exception of her cheeks and collar, they are red from the fever tender, the rest of her looks sweaty and yet the sweat shines over her skin in a subtle magical way. She would look beautiful in any case. 

“I need to lie down again…” Lena brings a hand to her forehead and sits by the edge of the bed. The room smells of her, combined with soap and herbs, and a tinge metallic of blood, the basin had yet not been removed from the room since the morrow when the doctor paid visit and its contents had coagulated with the scalding cold. There also some flowers near the foot of the bed, they looked poisonous and smelled sharply sweet. Lena followed Kara's gaze, "they are from Lex, to wish me a prompt recovery, so I stop hindering his practice with my coughing"   
At that Kara had no comment and kept surveying the room wishing to make it more comfortable. A hopeless case. 

“Do you need some water?” Kara spots a decanter over the chimney, which embers are slowly dying. 

“No…” she takes a deep breath and smiles. “What are you doing here anyway what if you get sick?” at that she coughs. It is a raspy cough that heaves her chest. 

“I am not worried about that… remember I am a bit stronger than you…since you never want to sleep in the stables with me”   
” 

At that L lets out a scoff and lies down.   
“If you are not preoccupied with falling sick then come here and accompany me” she opens the sheets as a manner of invitation. 

“Alright” Kara takes off her coat and boots, leaves them by the hearth, then slowly lets the heavier drapes of the bed fall over so they get a better cover, off the light and the world. She lies next to Lena and kisses her temple, the burning skin feels strange to the contact. She does it one more time. Lena shifts closer. 

The sky rumbles, the wind roses higher. Flashes of light illuminate the clouds, ominously. 

“Sleep now my faerie, I’ll be here right next to you” 

A soft tapping of rain can be heard hitting the window… and that gives the two some peace. 

“Would you not be missed at the stables?” 

“I would not be missed anywhere…”

“Just because you are right here next to me…. Or else I would miss you immensely” 

“For you wouldn’t have anyhow to order around?” 

“No, more like no one to l…” at that Lena stops. “No one to care for” She turns around to face Kara, they are close, her eyes are so alive, like moors themselves, like faerie ponds, full of aquatic plants and small living creatures. A portal to the otherworld. Kara caressed one of the silk strands of hair, out of the way and places it over her cheek, caressing the skin underneath very tenderly, with butterfly touch, tracing the line of the jaw, falling to the neck, she feels Lena having goosebumps, she is ticklish after all. Her hand finally rests over her collarbone, feeling the quickened beatings of the heart that encompasses hers. 

“When you get better we are leaving, you hear me?” 

Lena nods slowly and closes her heavy lids. Kara watches over her, she starts singing about falling stars. 

“One day we might catch one…” Lena whispers. “And we shall live among blue-bells, windflowers, and heather” 

“In a faerie land?” Kara usually would ask the same thing when Lena starting talking off about a whimsical full of light place… she found it weird. For Lena liked sharp cruel things. She loved the moors after all and the Luthor manor. 

“In our own land… one day…” she burrowed deeper in the covers of the bed, they were old and heavy a fortress. “I hope it comes”   
“It shall…”Kara cradled her head, her fingers getting lost in the faerie pool of dark hair. 

The wind started howling, harder and deeper. Angry at something. Lena coughed. “I’ve been having strange dreams, Kara. They are visceral and cruel, truer than any of these enclosing walls and I am afraid. ” 

“They are just that dreams” 

“I am afraid not, I feel like a feeble thing made of feathers blown away in the raging storm” 

Just in cue light flashes, the trees rustled and the branched hit the glass incessantly. All in unison murmured to Lena’s ear, come out, come out….The fire flickered and the brunette felt a deeper chill than that of fever. The howling then started being a constant voice in her head from then on. Luring and tugging at the corners of her mind. Promising the blooming of the seed of downfall the dreams had planted.


End file.
